


Good Form and Florals

by HollyeLeigh



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Florist AU, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 05:58:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12788529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyeLeigh/pseuds/HollyeLeigh
Summary: Greenhouses are known to be hot and steamy... even more so when Killian Jones and Emma Swan are together.





	Good Form and Florals

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos to @kmomof4 and @winterbaby89 for giving this a once over for me ;o) Also, itrustyoutokillme (@artistic-writer) made this hot as hell piece of art to accompany it. *fans self*

* * *

 

Killian stumbled back slightly, hitting the workbench behind him with his ass, knocking a bag of potting soil to the floor. Not that he gave a bloody damn. Because Emma Swan was kissing the holy hell out of him. Again.

_ Kiss her back you bloody idiot! _

Killian wrapped an arm around Emma’s waist, pulling her flush against him as her hands buried themselves in his hair, just as they had the day before when she’d kissed him. As he began to urgently plunder her mouth he suddenly felt her break off the kiss and slide down his body.

“Emma, love. What are you d-” His words were cut off by some sort of noise. A noise he’d never be able to describe, and one that, apparently, emitted from the back of his throat when Emma Swan was on her knees before him, running her hands up his thighs and over his erection.

Glancing up at him as she began to unfasten his belt, she asked, “Is this okay?”

_ Is it okay? Is it  _ okay _?! What about this would not be bloody well okay? _

Killian could only nod in response as he grasped the edge of the workbench, anchoring himself in place as she began to strip him of his jeans and briefs, his erection springing forward, the embodiment of eagerness.

“I’ve wanted to do this for weeks,” Emma confessed, her hot breath ghosting over his length, pulling another unfathomable noise from him as she flicked the bead of arousal that had collected at his tip onto her tongue.

His hips jerked as her tongue began a thorough exploration, laving along inch by inch with a mixture of gentle kisses and sultry licks before finally enveloping him fully into the slick heat of her mouth. The natural greenhouse humidity mixed with his own heightened state of arousal caused beads of sweat to form along his brow and in the hollow of his throat. His shallow pants became difficult to draw with the heaviness of the air around him, and Killian wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay upright through Emma’s ministrations of exquisite torture.

A stuttered breath preceded a deep, reverberating moan as he felt her reach between his legs, fondling him as she continued to bob along his length, quickening her pace and taking him further down her throat.

“Gods above, Emma. Yes! Yes, love. Just like that!” Killian cried out, his hand moving to the back of her head to encourage her along even as he willed his hips to keep their movements small as the desire to thrust with abandon nearly overtook him.

Killian’s hand tightened in her hair as he felt the build of release gather at the base of his spine, soft moans hummed along his length from the back of Emma’s throat and he spilled himself with a guttural cry as she swallowed him down, leaving him nearly breathless. His body pulsated with pleasure, little spasms working their way through him as she pulled his briefs and jeans back up, attempting to right him despite how wrecked he was.

A smug and satisfied smirk pulled at her now swollen lips, her hands lightly ghosting their way up his body, causing his abs and pecs to twitch and jump under her touch.

“That was… uh.”  _ Incredible? Fantastic? Life-altering? Indescribable? What was the right blasted adjective? _

“A favor you can return later,” she murmured against his lips, giving him one last kiss before she turned and headed toward the exit.

“Wha… where are you going?” he asked after her incredulously.

“I’m meeting David and Mary Margaret for dinner,” she called out over her shoulder as she continued toward the door. Stopping, she turned back to add, “Thanks for letting me have my dessert first, though. See you tomorrow, Jones,” winking at him before heading out into the night.

* * *

Emma concentrated on the vase and cut flowers before her, determined to complete the order that was set to go out for delivery in the morning before she left for the night. An already late night, due to the fact she’d been distracted all day and was now having to play catch up.

Distracted by the memory of the previous evening’s activities.

Distracted by the recall of the sounds he’d made, the way her name had caught on his breath, and the shallow pants and moans that breath had emitted as she’d lavished him with her tongue.

Emma shook the thoughts from her mind. She  _ had _ to finish the order if she had hope of getting home at some sort of decent hour.

Home.

It was still a foreign concept to her, but one that was becoming more discernible with each passing day. She’d only been in Storybrooke for a little over two months, having moved there at her brother’s urging when her florist business had succumbed to the ever turning wheels of progress and a developer who wouldn’t take no for an answer. The strip that Emma’s business had inhabited had been bought up, but Emma had received a decent enough payout. With nothing else really tying her to the city, David and Mary Margaret had inundated her with  _ fresh start  _ and  _ new horizons _ speeches until, honestly, she’d agreed to move to the small coastal town just to shut them up.

She’d been in town for about six days when her sister-in-law had begged her to help fill in temporarily at the local nursery and horticultural center their friends owned. Turned out the regular florist (and wife of one of the owners) had to go on bed rest unexpectedly, and they were in a pinch.

Good Form and Florals was a flower shop, nursery, and a horticultural center owned by brothers Liam and Killian Jones. It was Liam’s wife, Elsa, that Emma would be filling in for, and working alongside her younger sister, Anna, in the shop front of the business. Though a bit overly excitable and chatty, Emma had liked Anna from the start, and the two had established a wonderful working rhythm within a few days.

A rhythm that got knocked for a loop on day four when Anna introduced Emma to co-owner, Killian Jones.

Emma had met Liam, of course. He’d thanked her profusely for stepping in so Elsa, would adhere to and mind the doctor’s orders. Within the brothers’ partnership, Liam saw to the business side of things, the books, management of staff, dealing with clients, and the like, while Killian was more hands on, overseeing the greenhouse, and working on site at jobs with their landscaping crews. It was after just such a job that he’d strolled in, damp and disheveled hair, skin glistening from the day’s heat, wearing nothing more than a grey tank top and work shorts with smudges of earth and grass stains covering him from head to toe.

Emma had never seen anything sexier in her entire life.

Killian Jones was all charm and smolder wrapped in an enigma of honor, respect and good form even as he outrageously flirted with naughty and seductive innuendo. It seemed his mission from the moment of their meeting to try and make her blush with bawdy and ridiculous gardening euphemisms while also working her up with physical displays that had her appreciating his body, strength, and stamina more each day.

The bastard knew what he was doing when he parked his work truck right outside the large shop windows and began unloading bags of soil, mulch, or sand two or three at a time. Stopping to wipe his brow with the hem of his shirt, revealing toned, bronzed abs lightly dusted with a trail of hair that swept down from his matte covered chest. Bending over to pick up his work gloves that just  _ happened  _ to fall to the ground, giving her a glorious view of his tight ass. He’d shoot a wink at her through the window when he was done unloading his truck’s contents, knowing she’d been watching him the whole time, a smug smirk set on his lips. She really wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

And last night, she did.

After their steamy encounter in the already steamy greenhouse, it had been Emma with the smirk and a wink, leaving Killian Jones completely flushed and utterly wrecked.

She couldn’t wait to do it again.

Just like she hadn’t been able to wait to kiss him again after her impulses had dragged his mouth to hers two days prior.

They’d been the in the greenhouse, again, flirting and seductively sizing each other up when he’d made some quip about her being the one who couldn’t handle it. She’d kissed him to shut him up and to prove a point. She  _ could  _ handle it.

Oh, how wrong she’d been.

But she wasn’t about to let him know that.

So she’d waited until everyone else had left for the evening, gone into the greenhouse where he’d been tidying up a work bench, and pounced. The memory of which had her biting down on her lip as a flush of arousal made its way over her skin, in the same way she’d like his hands to be running over her. His strong, calloused hands caressing the bareness of her arms and legs, exposed in the skirt and tank top she’d worn that day, hoping to drive him to distraction for a change.

Unfortunately, he’d been out on a job all day.

Emma refocused her efforts to finish the arrangement and was putting away the last of her supplies when she felt a presence come up behind her.

“Smells rather heady and decadent in here, Swan.”

“Well, you are in a floral shop, Jones,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady so he wouldn’t realize just how off guard he’d caught her.

“I wasn’t talking about the flowers, love,” he purred in her ear, his hands tracing over her bare legs, exactly how she dreamt they would moments ago, until they found themselves under her skirt. Emma’s breath hitched as his fingers slid between legs causing a pool of arousal to soak the thin material that separated him from her sex. “Mmmm. As I said. Heady, decadent, and wet as well.”

Hot, open mouthed kisses slid down her neck and along her shoulder as his hands teased at the elastic band of her underwear. His fingers gripped each side of the lacy material and slowly began to drag them down her legs as he made his way down her body.

“I’ve imagined worshiping you on my knees like this each and every time you’ve shown up to work in some manner of skirt or dress,” he murmured against her thigh as he helped her step out of her panties.

“I almost always wear a dress or skirt,” she countered, her breath hitching as his hands moved to her waist and spun her around to face him.

“Exactly,” he replied, his eyes flashing with dark desire as he bunched up her skirt to her waist and lifted her leg over his shoulder.

Emma’s head fell back and she collapsed slightly against the counter as his tongue met her aching core, a moan escaping her as his own utterance sent deliciously torturous vibrations through her center. Damn, was he good at this. She wanted nothing more than to bury her hands into his hair, but didn’t trust her stability enough to remove them from the counter that was partially supporting her.

Every flick and flutter of his wickedly talented tongue had her barreling toward release at an almost embarrassing speed. She jerked up onto the tip toes of her grounded leg when she felt his hand join his mouth between her legs and he chased her, stilling her movements with his other hand as it tightened against her backside.

More groans reverberated against her, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to both satisfy and continually build the tight string of tense bliss he was leading her toward until it finally snapped and she fell with the cry of his name echoing around them.

Shivers of satisfaction rolled over her as he continued to lay kisses along the inside of her thigh. She nearly whimpered when he pulled her skirt back down, pouting over the fact that he didn’t seem to be planning to continue their little tryst and just take her against the counter.

She was about to suggest that he do that very thing when he stood and caught her mouth with his, and the taste of herself on his tongue made her want to take matters into her own hands. Reaching down between them, she palmed him through his jeans and he grabbed hold of her wrist.

“Ah, ah, Swan,” he teased. “Patience.”

“For what, exactly?”

“For me to do the proper thing, and ask you out on a date.”

Emma stared at him in stunned silence for a moment before finally speaking. “A date?”

“Aye,” he affirmed softly, a bashfulness she’d never before witnessed from him washing over his demeanor and tone. “I’d like more than just interludes in the greenhouse with you, Emma. So, what do you say, love?” he asked, his playful smirk returning as he gave her a sultry look. “Seeing as how you’ve already had your  _ dessert _ , and I’ve just had my own taste. Why don’t you let me take you to dinner, then afterward, if you like, we can both partake in the main course?”

Emma toyed with the charms on the necklace he always wore and lightly brushed her fingers through the chest hair that lay beneath as she agreed. “You’ve got yourself a date.”


End file.
